25
Caleb
Charlie has his mother’s eyes. Their hold on me is stronger than a three-hundred-pound bodyguard. I’ve only known the kid for a few months, and yet his question punctures a hole in my heart. He’s had to deal with a lot in a short amount of time but is stepping into his big brother-role like a champ.
This boy has more integrity than some men I know.
No one has asked me if I’m ready. Not my brother, Brigitte, or even Charlotte. No one’s holding me accountable but Charlie.
I owe him the truth.
“I never planned to be a father. I never envisioned it. But that’s no excuse. I can’t tell you that I’m ready right now. That would be a lie. I don’t have a clue how to be a father. But I promise you, I will be ready when the baby comes.”
“You promise to be here when the baby is born?”
“Charlie,” Charlotte admonishes. But the kid is right. I should quantify what I mean by that. “I promise I’ll be at the hospital and be a part of the child’s life. ”
Charlotte looks at me, searching my face for signs that I’m lying. This family has been through a lot, and I promise myself that I will be honest with them every step of the way.
Charlie stands up and puts out his hand. “Thanks for helping me with the bookshelf.”
I shake it. “Thanks for looking out for your mom. It takes a real man to do that.”
Charlie smiles and lifts his chin higher. “Do you want to play catch?”
Although I’d planned to help Charlotte buy things for the baby, I find myself wanting to spend more time with Charlie. “Let’s go.”
He races out of the room toward the front door, and I turn to follow him. But Charlotte pulls my arm back. Her eyes water and she bites on her bottom lip. “Thank you,” she whispers.
The words, ‘You’re welcome’ are at the tip of my tongue, and yet, I don’t say them. They don’t feel right. They’re not enough.
Instead, I lean down and kiss her bottom lip. I kiss her once, then again, until she wraps her arms around my neck and opens her mouth fully for me.
My body reacts to her kiss and I’m nearly out of breath when she pulls away. She’s smiling and touches her mouth with the tips of her fingers before turning around and walking out of the room .
I take a few minutes to inhale and exhale slowly before meeting Charlie outside.
We toss the ball around a few times after I correct his elbow. The kid has a strong arm. With the right technique, he could become a great pitcher. When I suggest this to him, his eyes light up and he follows my instructions to the last detail.
I lose sight of the ball when Charlotte comes outside, and it nearly hits my face. Charlie covers a laugh with his glove, and I chuckle and throw the ball back at him.
But Charlotte is a distraction. Her breasts are larger, nearly spilling out of her summer dress. Her legs are still tanned from the week in St. Kitts, and I imagine her tan lines up near the top of her thighs. “Look out!” Charlie shouts and I move my face in time for the ball to whiz past my ear.
Charlotte raises her head from the trunk of the car, but since neither of us is hurt, she ducks back down. I throw the ball to Charlie, but notice that Charlotte is struggling. “Hold up, Charlie,” I say and jog over to the car.
“What’s wrong?”
“This box is heavier than I thought. Do you mind bringing it into my bedroom?”
“Of course.” I pull off my glove and pick up the box. It’s at least fifty pounds. “What’s inside? ”
“Oh, the crib I was shopping for earlier. It wouldn’t fit in my trunk, so the guy took it apart for me.”
I set the box down in her room. “Do you have a drill? I can assemble it for you.”
She waves me off. “No. No. You play with Charlie. I’ll take care of this.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
I walk out, looking over my shoulder, as Charlotte closes the door.
Before I head back outside, I check my phone for messages. It’s the weekend, so it’s pretty quiet. Travis has set up a few meetings for next week, but otherwise, nothing out of the ordinary.
“All right, Charlie. I’m back.”
He tosses me my glove and I move back into position, about twenty feet away.
Across the street, a neighbor watches us. She’s a little older than Charlotte, but not by much, I’d say. She’s on her phone and sipping a drink on her porch. She stares at us, and I ask Charlie who she is. “Oh, that’s Mrs. Gibbons.”
I nod when he doesn’t expand. I guess in a small town, mentioning the person’s name is enough. I don’t push Charlie about it, and we keep playing .
Another twenty minutes go by, and I wonder about Charlotte’s progress. “Give me a minute, Charlie. I’m going to see if your mom needs any help.”
The door to her room is still closed, so I knock. “Yeah,” Charlotte calls out, “Come in.”
I turn the knob and open the door to a room full of wooden slats, nuts, and bolts strewn over the floor. Nothing’s been put together yet.
“What’s wrong?”
She frowns. “I’m used to doing this with instructions, but there are none. I have no idea where to begin. They all look the same. I’ve tried laying them out, but then the bolts don’t fit. It’s useless. I’ve spent the money, and I still don’t have a crib.”
“Here. Let’s see if I can help.”
She tosses a handful of bolts and nuts onto the ground. “Be my guest.”
I look at the layout of the pieces on the ground. She’s done a good job of mapping this out. I think there are a few pieces that are on the wrong side, so I shift those around. “Can you pass me those two bolts, and the two washers?”
She passes the pieces to me, and I insert them into the pre-drilled holes. “I don’t think you can drill these again. They’ll strip the bolts. Do you have a screwdriver? ”
She turns to her pink toolbox and hands me a pink screwdriver. I smile, looking down at it. “Cute. Very cute.”
She smiles. “Thanks.”
The first two pieces fit together, and I move onto the next section she’s laid out. She passes me another two bolts and washers without my asking. “Thanks,” I say, taking the pieces from her hand.
I’m lying on my back underneath the structure as she holds the pieces together above me. I catch her gaze as it travels down my body, and she wets her lips.
Damn .
It’s as though her eyes could touch me through my jeans. I fix my attention back on the wooden slats. “Keep looking at me like that, and we won’t get this done.”
“Keep working so well with your hands and it won’t be the bolts that you’re screwing.”
The screwdriver falls from my hand, and I stare at her, dumbfounded. She’s laughing and pushing her hair away from her face. “Are you serious right now?” I ask, incredulously.
She shrugs. “Maybe.”
I groan. “Don’t tease me, Charlotte. I’ve wanted you since I saw you again.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” I scoff. “Really. ”
Picking up the screwdriver, I turn it twice, and press down on the wood pieces to keep them in place.
“Even with me—you know—like this?”
I don’t look up. “Like what?”
She sighs. “Pregnant.”
I shrug. “That changes nothing. I still think you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.”
There’s a small intake of breath and it’s enough to distract me to look at her. Her cheeks redden and she bites that damn lip of hers again. “God, I love it when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Bite your lip.”
I push out from underneath the crib and evaluate my work. “Not too bad.” I shake it and it moves. “It could be sturdier, but I might be able to tighten the bolts better.” Her hand on my forearm stops me.
I turn to face her, and her freckles are camouflaged by the flush of her cheeks and spreading down to her neck.
She takes my hand, and my chest tightens as she pulls it toward her and on top of one breast.
Oh, they’ve definitely grown larger, fuller, spilling between my fingers. I squeeze gently, and they’re a lot firmer than I remember, too.
No. Pregnancy has not deterred my attraction to her. It’s actually intensified it. I drop my hands onto her belly and she inhales sharply. I roam my palms along the sides and over. She still hasn’t taken a breath.
Dropping my mouth to her neck, I kiss her gently beneath her ear. “Breath, baby.”
She does, exhaling loudly. Her belly moves, and something kicks against my hand.
“Oh my God,” she breathes. “Did you feel that?”
Shit . I did. “Was that the baby?”
She nods, and tears gather in her eyes. My heart pounds in my chest, and I don’t know how to describe it, but I want to put my entire body around her stomach and protect that precious child inside of her.
She turns in my arms to face me and cups my cheeks. “I’m so happy you’re here to feel her first kicks.”
“Her?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know for sure, but I think it’s a girl.”
A girl. A tiny little baby girl.
She stands on her tiptoes, and I meet her mouth. Fervent emotions pour through the kiss. I can’t name them yet as they spill inside of me and take over my body. I press her backwards until her back hits the wall. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, but she shakes her head.
“I’m not that fragile, Caleb. You won’t hurt me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she breathes and pulls my head down to kiss me again. I let go, trusting she will tell me if I’ve pushed too hard. I grab the back of her head and hold her in place as I ravage her lips. I gasp for air between kisses, but never enough to stop kissing her. I’m reckless, and I don’t think about anything other than being inside of her again. It’s been more than six months. I haven’t been with anyone else since. My dick hasn’t even twitched for another woman, but with her it stands to attention.
Charlotte pulls away, breathing harshly, and places her hand on the doorknob. She turns it slowly and presses her hand against the door until it clicks shut. “What about Charlie?”
“He’s watching his favorite TV show. He won’t move for another thirty minutes at least.”
Thirty minutes isn’t nearly enough to do everything I’ve wanted to do with Charlotte since St. Kitts.
“You have to be quiet, though.”
I groan, and she covers my mouth with her hand, giggling. “Much quieter than that.”
I lick the palm of her hand, and her giggles die on her lips. I lick her neck and her collarbone, dragging my tongue down the valley between her breasts.
She pulls down the thin straps of her dress, and it pools at her feet. She stands naked in front of me, except for her panties below the swell of her belly.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I say, running my hands along her bump. “You’re carrying our child, taking care of her, all while taking care of everything else.”
She holds my head between her hands, and I kiss around her belly button, moving my lips lower. “Caleb,” she whispers, and my body jerks in response. I smell her sweet scent before I taste it, and I spear my tongue inside her as soon as I reach her core. She jerks from my grasps on her hips, and I worry she might fall, so I turn and walk her back toward the bed. “This bed squeaks too much,” she whispers, and I groan again. Albeit this time a little quieter.
“Hold on to the desk then,” I say and help her put both hands on the edge of the wooden furniture. “Is this okay?”
“Yes, it was mine when I was a kid. I’ve had my own fantasies while writing on this desk.”
I run my hands up and down her back and thighs and feel her body tremble at my fingertips. I drop to my knees and turn my body so that my face is between her thighs. “Hold on tight, baby,” I say and press my tongue to her clit. She shivers and drops her head, holding herself up with her hands against the desk. “Fuck,” she whispers.
I do it again, licking, tasting, and sucking the intense bud until her legs shake and I hold them steady with my hands on her thighs. She pants and moans and finally comes all over my mouth. I lick it all, savoring her pleasure, and wanting to start all over again, but we only have a few minutes left until Captain Whatever is finished.
Getting up from the floor, I pull her hips back and unbutton my jeans. My dick pops out as soon as I pull down my briefs, eager to get inside of her. “Is this position good?” I ask when I’m at her entrance. She pushes her ass against me. “Yes. Hurry.”
I slide inside of her with no further hesitation and little resistance. Ah, fuck, this is what I needed.
I drop my head back and feel her core clench, squeezing my dick and hugging it like a fucking clamp. I pull out, moving slowly, not wanting to hurt her, but she pushes her ass back, slapping against my balls. A shiver runs along my testicles, and I press my fingertips into her hips.
She pushes back again, and this time, my reserve snaps and I slam into her from behind. “Ah,” she pants, lifting her chin up to the ceiling.
I wait for her to tell me to stop, but she squeezes her thighs together.
Fuck it .
I push myself to the hilt and she pants again. I’ve hit her spot; I can tell by the way her thighs tremble. I find a rhythm—in and out—harder, faster—until we’re both panting and moaning. When her moans become loud, I cover her mouth with my hand as I slam into her over and over again.
She bites me when my thrust goes too deep, then lets out a muffled cry when she reaches her pleasure. My body tightens and races to catch up with her. I thrust once more, and my body explodes, releasing an orgasm I’ve held for far too long. I pull her onto the bed and we both fall on top of it.
“Damn,” I breathe. “That was better than I remember it.”
“I don’t remember my name right now,” she says, and I smile.
Good , because I’m starting to think I’d like to change it.